The Conference on Beautiful Moments

UNCLE SIMON AND GENE

U n c l e S i m o n a n d G e n e They were just where they weren’t supposed to be. It was clearly roped off, so how could the man not know it, Simon thought, digging his nails into the palms of his hands as he watched the two of them staring at the train layout. And what an example to set for his little boy, that was the worst part. It was just as if the man had stared into his little boy’s shining blue eyes (who couldn’t have been more than five) and said, When you want to do something, do it. Ignore the rules of your environment, forget the laws by which the meek of the world abide, and follow your pleasure wherever it may lead. If it leads you in a public museum to an area that’s obviously roped off, ignore the ropes, pretend they don’t exist. Indulge your appetite regardless of how you violate your surroundings —that’s the important thing, sonny. What would be next, Simon wondered? Would they lift off the glass lid that covered part of the exhibit? Would the man risk setting off the alarm just so his little boy could touch the trains, perhaps take the trains off their tracks and run them on the museum floor, and then when the whim struck them go somewhere else in the museum,the man putting the trains in his pockets so his little boy could play with them later amongst all his other stolen toys? Would you believe it, he was touching the trains now, letting his little boy touch them, too, letting him pick them up in the air and examine them as if they were dollar toys and not miniature works of art that were part of the City Museum’s special train exhibit. 97 98 t h e c o n f e r e n c e o n b e a u t i f u l m o m e n t s The little boy was becoming talkative now. He was talking about cupolas , connecting rods, and hopper cars—a regular train fanatic he was and so naturally excited to see such an elaborate setup of model trains in such an intimate, clearly forbidden way. And to know that his father would break the rules of the museum (the laws of the city and state, too, for that matter) just to cater to his pleasure. It was almost five o’clock and the museum was already emptying. From his position by the unoccupied trampoline Simon watched the man, who looked to be rather old to have such a young son, running his fingers through the boy’s hair. Then he had an awful thought. How did he know that man was the boy’s father? It seemed to him that from the time he’d watched them the man had touched the boy an excessive amount, couldn’t, in fact, seem to keep his hands off him. Well, it wouldn’t be the first time an arrogant pervert had paraded his conquest in a public place, Simon supposed, but he was damned if on his watch he was going to let it happen once he was sure what was what. He decided to move a little closer to hear them better. Their words would give them away,he realized,especially the little boy’s.Unless he was very well trained, for example, it was unlikely that the little boy would call the man daddy, although the man might actually be the child’s father and also abusing him—that happened all the time, too. Museums were hardly able to safeguard children from such abusers. On the contrary, they were magnets for them, especially a place like the City Museum, which was created as a children’s museum. Simon was staring openly at them now but the man (good-looking for his age, which was somewhere in his early to mid fifties—Simon’s age) never noticed, never took his eyes or his hands off his young, adored treasure. They were both talking now, man and little boy, quietly but animatedly , like coconspirators. They were acting out some kind of drama with the trains, giving them voices, names, and personalities and telling a story back and forth, ducking under more ropes from time to time as they added still more trains to their ever-expanding...